Eyes, Smiles and Funny Feelings
by Bonzodog
Summary: After the transplant patients died, Dr Cox's mind was a mess for a long time... Angst, implied slash.


**Hi! Originally a 100 Things About You drabble, but it was too long and I liked it too much. This takes place after My Lunch, in My Fallen Idol. Most likely rambling angst-filled drivel. Hope you like it!**

**Note: I can't remember if the patient in the bed was male or female. She's a woman now, though.**

**Jess xxx**

He can feel them.

He can feel their eyes.

They're all staring at him like he's shit on their shoes, and he knows he deserves it. Their parents, their partners, their children, all staring at him. They're ripping him apart.

The mouths, they say consoling, empty words. But those glaring, accusative eyes show all the hidden meanings. He shuts his own eyes tight because he doesn't want to see it anymore, doesn't want to know. He only wants his couch and his TV and his scotch. So he finds them and he stays all night with them.

And soon he's walking to work and he has no idea where he's going. He arrives at the hospital, and they push him towards a bed and tell him to get to work. They don't notice that he's drunk. It seems to him that nobody notices anything anymore.

He looks down at the bed and at the patient, and realises that this woman is in his hands. His responsibility. She's not a robot, she's not a nameless _being. _She's a person, and she needs help. Help which today, he can't give. So he stands there, knowing that he should be doing something and knowing he _can't._

He looks around. Maybe they don't know yet. Maybe they have no idea he's a killer. They seem the same. Nobody smiles at him. Good. He doesn't know what he'll do if they smile. Sympathy is something he doesn't deserve anymore.

And when a man appears, and a head of brown, perfectly styled hair walks towards him, he has no idea what to do. Newbie's smiling, but that fades as he draws near. That's what he does, after all. He takes smiles as easily as he takes lives.

In the end he raises the tube, liquid dripping out, and mutters something. He doesn't know what. Newbie looks shocked, so it was probably bad. Suddenly, he sees himself drop the tube, and the floor rushes up to meet him. Before it can, slim arms catch him and drag him to a stop. Newbie can't hold his weight very well, and calls out for help. Nurses buzz around, tutting and cooing and doing everything but helping.

He finds himself at home. He doesn't know when it is. It could have been two days that have passed, or two hours. He's on his sofa, blanket clutched to his chest like it's saving his life. Carla is smiling, her pregnant stomach already straining against her shirt. He wonders if any of the patients had children. He feels awful, so he raises his bottle and swallows until he can't feel anything anymore.

Then it's Barbie, then Gandhi, all coming in with gentle, coaxing words. _Free the tiger, help him out of his cage. Just don't get too close. _And then there's the supposedly comforting smiles. He hates that smile, stapled onto their faces. It's like a mask that they pass on, pull on to see him and drop at the door. Each is the exact same blend of pity, sympathy, and relief that they're not him.

They all come, except for one. Newbie hasn't been to see him yet. Through his haze he thinks he hears that Newbie's supposed to come today. So he waits. Less alcohol, sit up straighter. The kid respects him, after all. And he waits.

But the minutes turn to hours, and eventually somebody remembers to tells him that Newbie isn't coming. He wonders why he bothered- why he ever bothered- and throws himself back to drown in the darkness.

* * *

Newbie's voice comes like a lightning bolt, like an electric shock. For a moment he sees it clearly, the world illuminated. He sees himself, he sees he needs help. He sees it all, but then the scotch flicks the light switch back off. Newbie's mouth is moving, but for once he hears the words. He doesn't answer them.

Newbie's touch comes like headlights, like a flame. It's a small light, but it's there and it's getting stronger, staying stronger. A single tear manages to escape, but that's all it needs for the tentative arm placed around his slumped shoulders to pull him closer. He looks up to Newbie's face, looking for a reason to hate him. It's not there. That smile isn't there, those saccharine words aren't there. Only his Newbie is there, filling the blackness.

* * *

He can feel them.

He can feel their eyes.

They're all staring at him. Like he's shit on their shoes, like he's Jesus reincarnated, like he's a new kind of thing that they're not sure they like yet. His friends, his workmates, the strangers at the bar. And everyone's hugging him, patting him on the back, nodding at him. The smiles are of joy, love, and a different kind of relief. He knows everyone's there, he feels their kind words and takes it all in. But there's only one person he's interested in- a lone man hunched over his drink at the bar.

No one follows him over, and in a way he's disappointed. Everyone should know what Newbie has done for him. He doesn't want to have to hide anymore. But he's alone, so he crouches down at the bar. Newbie doesn't notice.

"JD?" He murmurs. Newbie's head swivels around at light speed, lips opened and eyes opened wider. Before Newbie can speak, he does.

"Thank you." He forces out. JD smiles, and for once a smile is just what he wants to see. He finds himself being pulled back to the throng of people, and he lets himself go with them. Lets himself have a good time. No more hiding.

* * *

He can still feel them.

He can still feel their eyes, and their lowered voices, and their silent screams.

They still rip him apart, and string him up for the world to see him fall to pieces.

But now he's got somebody to hold him together.


End file.
